


Three Times Ben Chang and Ian Duncan Were Partners in Crime (Literally)

by kikitheslayer



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Western, Alternate universe - Mafia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikitheslayer/pseuds/kikitheslayer
Summary: What it says on the tin.





	

I.

The gunshots rang out like cracks of lightning in the desert day, recoil stinging Chang's hand as he ninja-leaped between barricades. He had just knelt behind a set of barrels when a bullet streaked dangerously close to his head, leaving his ears ringing. He swore under his breath and wiped off his brow. The sun was baking the dirt, and he could feel the sweat collecting where his left hand was clenched around the burlap sack full off -- well, let's call them his "winnings."

A voice rose up over the noise. "Will you hurry up!" Duncan cried.

Chang muttered but quit the elaborate shooting he had been working on, lowering the dramatic music playing in his head. He sighed and made a dash for where Duncan was waiting with the horses, firing off two more quick shots.

“Oh,” said Duncan, his voice loud and edged with sarcasm, “glad you decided to pop in!”

Chang rolled his eyes, mounting his steed. He tossed Duncan the sack and laughed loudly as he fumbled to catch it.

He stopped only when he realized Duncan had galloped off without him.

—

They dismounted a few towns away. Chang watched as Duncan tied up the horses. “Wanna celebrate? _Huh?_ Partner?”

Duncan gave him an icy look. “Sorry, I have plans. I am going to find a saloon in this fucking town that is very far away from you, and I am going to get very drunk. Again, away from you.” He straightened up and marched resolutely away.

Chang smirked, pushing his share of the winnings deep in his pocket, resting a hand on the gun which was safely holstered away, and shambling after him.

II.

The man across the table was cloaked in dark.

“I’ll get you the money,” cried Duncan, looking around wildly, his voice a high-pitched British accent. His whole demeanor ragged, from his hair to his clothes to his reddening face. “Seriously, that Porsche should have been a sure thing.”

The man — known only as El Tigre — chuckled, his voice low and emanating, seeming to fill the cold room. “Now, now, Ian — I don’t want your money. No, I can tell you’ve failed me on that regard.”

“Please,” Ian begged, “torture will not work on me! I'm too pretty. I will tell you anything to make it stop. _That's_ psychology, bitches!"

“What? Dude, chill out.” El Tigre reached up, pulling a cord to dimly light up the room. It was dank and damp, office-sized, with a desk and a couple of filing cabinets. Ian didn't want to consider what was inside them. Chang addressed his body guards next. “Were you guys intimidating him? We talked about that." He turned back to Ian. “Sorry about them. Summer, you know how they get. The freedom just goes straight to these little monsters' heads.”

“What do you want?” asked Ian again, his voice only rising.

Chang made a "stop" motion with his hands. “Hold your caballos, amigo. I’m gonna slide an offer over to you, and you tell me if it looks good.” Tantalizingly slow, he scrawled on a scrap of paper and slid it across the desk.

Ian leaned forward and grabbed it up quickly, hands shaking. He squinted trying to ascertain the meaning. _Be my friend._

El Tigre shot him a smile. It was terrifying. “I need a partner, Ian. Namely, a guy with a couch I can crash on and access to the Greendale science lab. We’re gonna Breaking Bad this shit.”

Ian nodded quickly, extending an arm across the table.

Chang spit in his palm before he shook it.

III.

“I’m too old for this shit,” commented Duncan, taking a swig of his drink. Thank god for open bars.

“You’re too old for anything,” responded Chang. “You should be in the fucking ground. Grandpa.”

Duncan rolled his eyes. “Sure. Make fun of me. At least I didn’t beg you for some human companionship this morning.”

Chang shrugged, unconcerned. “Can’t show up to a wedding single.”

“You could not show up to a wedding at all. Considering you're crashing.”

Chang rolled his eyes. “Annie would have wanted me here.”

“What the ever-loving fuck does that mean? She’s right there.” Duncan gestured to the dance floor, where a glowing Annie was hand-in-hand with her new bride.

“I meant Annie Kim,” sulked Chang. “Racist.”

“Again,” replied Duncan, “right there.”

Chang sat up. “This blows. Remember before any of these losers showed up at this school?”

Duncan sighed at the memory. “God yes.”

There was a pause, then Chang said, “Want to rob a bank?”

Duncan gave him an incredulous look.

“What?" Chang said, shrugging. "You got something better going on?"

Duncan took another sip. “…Fine. But I'm definitely wearing a ski mask. I don't want to be caught on security tape with you."

**Author's Note:**

> There are still a few days left of Community Rarepair Month! (@communityrarepairs.tumblr.com)


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